I went to Queen’s Park in Bolton and was amazed at the sheer enormity of having that expanse of nature protected in the middle of the city. It instantly reminded me of another park like it in Oslo.
I was on a scientific mission in Oslo during my PhD, and a few days before leaving the city, I realised I had not seen any Viking villages or museums at all. I settled on exploring Frogner Park since it was the biggest park in the city and came with high recommendations from my host. I arrived from the back and got lost in what seemed like a thick forest. Google Map was useless in directing me, and I eventually relied on directions from an elderly woman walking her dogs in the woods. She spoke excellent English. I think that is what I enjoyed most about Oslo, everyone spoke very good English. Okay, I tend to digress.
Stumbling into that park hit me with so much nostalgia. It was green and wild and undulating, with many turns and trails, the kind of place that you wouldn’t imagine exists in a modern bustling city. There were school children playing, running, and getting lost in the woods. Their voices blended with the sounds of chirping birds.
It reminded me of many places in Nigeria. Of school children playing truant, or maybe just wandering home after school, I can’t remember which. It reminded me of growing up in the northern region of Nigeria. This was something we had while I was growing up there, before the religious clashes. As young as six years old, I found my way home after school and, of course, strayed to different places on adventures before getting home. It was safe. Everyone knew everyone. I usually followed other classmates. We also lived in a metropolitan city with people from every ethnic group.
The memory that lingers is visiting my class teacher in Primary Two. I can’t remember who thought it was a good idea to visit him because he had recently moved close to their house. We had to cross a canal to get to that side of town. I can’t remember the exact details now, but I remember that I was very scared and couldn’t cross that canal. A bigger girl in my class, Ozioma (I don’t know how I still remember her name), carried me on her back to cross. What made it scary was that the bridge was a pipe. It was a scary but exhilarating adventure. We saw the teacher, who was so shocked at seeing us. We were lucky not to be punished, as he was very strict. Looking back at this experience, I can’t help but wonder about the many ways that could have turned out so negatively. What if we fell into the canal? What if that teacher was an abuser? Fortunately, there was another way back home that didn’t require crossing that canal.
Nigerian children can never have this luxury now with the high levels of insecurity. It’s dangerous to let children go to school on their own or, worse still, wander off into the woods. Even adults can’t afford to get lost in the woods we have in such abundance.
Being in that park in Oslo with the children made me jealous, angry, and sad at the same time. We tore down our nature and the freedom of living like that for “civilisation.” And it seems that these people who convinced us that their lifestyle was better are now living the lives we have lost. They have wild green spaces and the childhood freedom to roam. We “modernised” away from ours.
Not that there aren’t any Nigerian children able to roam about in the woods after school, but it comes at a heavy price. Those children would probably be living in rural areas with poor education and healthcare. I guess what made me jealous was that they could live the best of both worlds. Eat their cake and have it. Children living in Nigerian cities may never again have that sort of life.
I was grieving for what was lost. Especially in the region where I grew up, now plagued with kidnapping, ongoing slaughter, and terrorism.
Bolton has its park. Oslo has its park. And somewhere in Kaduna, the woods I used to wander through are still there, I think. But no child is crossing a canal on another child’s back to visit a teacher anymore. That world is gone.
It’s hard to explain.
